A couple of weeks ago I was playing a Hooters Tour event in Amelia Island in Florida. The tournament finished on Sunday and as we were so close we decided to make the quick drive down to the TPC at Sawgrass practice there on Monday. Although Sawgrass is a public facility (for those willing to pony up a mere $400) we were fortunate to have access to Sawgrass in a way that only a rare few have. I say we because my roommate I live with in Atlanta is David Skinns, an Englishman who plays on the Nationwide Tour. Being a member of the PGA or Nationwide Tours allows a player total access to any of the 29 TPC layouts throughout the continental US. And so, on a sunny Monday morning in March we drove into the Sawgrass parking lot in my dinged-up 2000 Mitsubishi Mirage with 213,000 miles on it and parked in the “player parking” section so close to the font door we might as well have been inside the club house. We were greeted in the pro shop by head professional Matt Borocz, who graciously showed us around the facilities, giving us a guided tour of the practice areas, clubhouse and closing holes on both nines. He then headed inside and returned with Titleist range balls and showed us to the back of the range where we were to warm up before our round.

The TPC at Sawgrass has a large practice range, and extensive greens for chipping and putting right next to the Spanish-inspired clubhouse, but we were not going to be using those facilities. No, the VJ Singh’s and Jim Furyk’s that practice at Sawgrass have their own area and that’s where we were warming up. The professional’s practice area is a sanctuary. Tucked away in the back corner of the range are two massive teeing grounds (one rumored to have been built just for VJ), a phenomenally large and undulating putting green that was running about 12 on the stimpmeter, and three chipping greens all in perfect condition. As we drove to the back of the range we could already see somebody back there. We had hoped that it was VJ himself, pounding ball after ball into the morning sun, but alas, it was only PGA Tour player Kevin Stadler. I hoped he didn’t see the disappointment on my face as I walked past him to warm up.

We warmed up and struck a few putts before Matt returned and told us that if we wanted to jump off the front nine immediately we would have the course to ourselves. And he wasn’t kidding. We hit off the 1st and never saw another player, barely even a maintenance worker, the entire time we were out there. To keep things interesting we had decided to put $10 on the outcome of the day, and as we turned to the back nine I had a one shot lead with an even par 36.

We were playing from the absolute tips as well, ignoring the tee markers and walking to the extreme back of every teeing ground. As we got deeper into the back nine, the holes, so memorable on TV, were becoming more and more familiar. On almost every hole there were small flags placed where plaques had been laid down to commemorate famous shots from The Players‘ champions like David Love III, Fred Couples and Hal Sutton, and we were now treading the same grounds as those legends.

As any golf fan knows the final three holes at Sawgrass are three of the most charismatic and dramatic finishing holes anywhere in the world. The drama and excitement of The Players comes down to the risk-reward par 5 16th, the iconic and dangerous par 3 17th and the merciless par 4 18th. We came to the 16th tee all square in our match.

Ordinarily the 16th is a pretty reachable par 5 for professionals such as ourselves, but today, with temperatures on the cold side, we would not have the opportunity to go at the green in two. There is a large fairway bunker on the right hand side of the hole and this is where my ball ended up. David’s was in the left rough.

Down the left hand side of 16 is a large tree which blocks out a safe lay-up down, which is the safe side to play if you want to avoid the water which hugs the right hand side of the fairway and cuts in behind the green. Showing a distinct lack of local knowledge we both laid up too far down the left side and were blocked out by the tree. I was slightly further back and elected to go over the tree with a 60 degree wedge. however, in avoiding the tree I couldn’t get the ball to the back of the green where the hole was cut. David got creative with his shot, punching one under the branches and scurrying his ball up to the middle of the green where my ball sat. I putted up and tapped in for par and waited for David to putt, gazing back across the pond, past the tree island in the middle of the water, towards the most intimidating hole on the PGA Tour. David putted out for par to keep the match all square and we drove over to the 17th just as a tour bus full of visitors pulled up behind the tee. We had a gallery for our match at last.

I assume they were after blood. Not actual blood of course, but metaphorical, golfing blood. They type of blood that they see on Sunday at the Players when Sean O’Hair dunked his ball into the water while trying to chase down Phil Mickelson. Or when Bob Tway, four shots off the lead and making a charge, airmailed the green not once, but twice on his way to making a 12. Yeah, that’s what they were after. It wasn’t 25,000 screaming fans on a Sunday at The Players, but this tour bus sure felt like something similar to us.

Most of the back portion of the tee was roped off to protect the grass for the tournament which was still two months away, but there was still a small section at the back of the tee pros could hit off. That’s where we teed off. The hole was cut on the front slope of the green, making the shot a lot shorter than it would normally play. However, from the tee it looked like the pin was sitting about 6 feet out into the water. It was intimidating to say the least.

We paced off the yardage and figured it to be 132 yards with the breeze helping a little from the left. Dave took a deep breath and hit first, his ball looked like it was going to be short the whole way, but the wind carried it all the way to the front of the green, pitching half way up the slope, taking one bounce forward before backing up to 6 feet from the hole. It was a hell of a shot and he drew enthusiastic applause from our audience. I was next.

Ordinarily, 132 yards is a very little nine iron for me, but with the wind helping I decided to try and jump on a wedge and take my chances. I tried as hard as I could to go through my routine, and struck the ball very, very well. The ball jumped off the club and my first impression was that I had hit it too far. Half way across the water the wind knocked it down a little and I thought it had to be wet. Then, as if according to plan, it landed just past the hole, took one bounce forward, spun, and began trickling back down the slope towards the hole. I’m pretty sure I wasn’t breathing as I saw the ball track back towards what had to be a hole in one. I’m still not sure how it missed, but it did. It ended up 4 feet below the hole.

As we drove around the pond we waved at our small gallery, the tour guide laughing at what great shots we had just hit. I’d love to tell you that we both brushed our birdie putts in with ease, but David’s putt broke across the hole, and he had to settle for par. I made my putt and walked to the 18th with a one shot lead.

If the 17th is a tough hole, the 18th is the double bogey on the cake. This is especially true if there is a tournament (or in our case, something much more important, on the line). It is 462 yards of terror; a slight dogleg left with water screaming down the entire inside of the hole with wood planks built into the side of the lake making it seem like the water and the fairway are on the exact same level, one blending seamlessly into the other.

Thanks to my birdie on 17 I was first to take the tee. I aimed at the small sliver of fairway and took an aggressive cut at the ball. But half way on my downswing I flinched slightly, my subconscious wandering towards the trouble on the left, and I bailed it out just into the right rough. David, who had been struggling with his driver, decided to unleash his best of the day, a 300 yard bomb down the middle. I was going to have my work cut out for me to win this one.

My ball had come to rest just behind a very small and thin tree that guards the right rough where many balls, trying desperately to avoid the water, end up. If I was to get to the green I was going to have to start the ball towards the water, and cut it back ten or fifteen yards to the middle of the green where the pin was cut, just on top of a tier. I chose a 5 iron and opened the face, taking an aggressive swing. The ball started left and started to fade and for a moment I thought it was perfect, but the wind, off the left again, pushed it a little too far and the ball came up just short and right of the green. David stepped up and flushed a 7 iron to fifteen feet behind the hole, now the pressure was squarely on me.

Watching golf on TV does a couple of things to the observer. One of the things it does is flatten out lumps and bumps. I can attest to this because the slope that runs through the middle of the 18th green at Sawgrass is much, much larger than it looks on TV, and I had to hit a chip that would have to tip-toe across the top of the slope, being careful not to trip and fall which would send the ball falling to the bottom tier of the green. I selected a 54 degree wedge and pitched the ball onto the top of the slope. It ran down towards the hole but slowed up quickly, like it had pulled a hamstring on the final straight, and settled 3 feet short, leaving me a tricky downhill putt for par.

David, still one shot behind, looked over his putt like it was the last he would ever hit and poured it in the middle of the cup for a birdie. He pumped his fist and looked at me with a grin that suggested he had just stolen the last cookie from the pantry. The ball was in my court. But with the near perfect greens it was going to be a hard putt to miss, and I got up and stroked it confidently, the ball hitting the back of the cup and bouncing slightly into the air before settling at the bottom.

It was a gentleman’s half, as we call it in strange countries over the seas, and we were happy with that. That was until Matt came to greet us as we drove towards the clubhouse.

“How’d it go guys?” he asked.

“Awesome, wonderful, fantastic.” we replied.

“Well, you’re in luck. VJ is at the back of the range hitting balls. You should go back and hit some with him.”

We looked at each other.

“Or you could go out and keep playing, the course is wide open on the back nine still.”

“Nine hole playoff?” I asked Dave.

“Let’s do it.” he said.

We thanked Matt and drove off towards the 10th tee again for a rematch with the back nine at Sawgrass. VJ could wait, he‘d probably be there a while anyway.